


Upon Waking

by anytaintedcreature (wrongwayco)



Series: Once Upon A Dream [2]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongwayco/pseuds/anytaintedcreature
Summary: Missing moments and little one-shot scenes from Once Upon A Dream.





	1. On the Emerald Coast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, look I made it two whole weeks before I ran crying back to this story! Really, as soon as I was done, I got a handful of ideas for missing moments, so here we go. These will be randomly posted little one-shots of moments I either just came up with, or wanted to squeeze into Dream but had to cut out for various reasons. Enjoy!

1:

 

“There.” Rowan sat back on his heels, offering a smile that was only a little bit smug as he let his hands fall away from his companion and back down by his sides. “That worked faster than last time, right?”

On the log in front of him, Erik lifted his fingers to his chest and ducked his chin, trying to inspect the newly knitted skin where a wicked slice had cut him moments before. “You’re getting better at it,” he agreed, shifting his tunic back into place. “Something tells me that spell is going to come in handy.”

“Why, do you plan on breaking into any more crypts and fighting more gryphons?” Rowan asked, his smile stretching when Erik smirked.

“Not tonight, at least.”

“Probably for the best.” Rowan turned towards the firepit and held out a hand, calling for a _Frizz_ before a small blaze erupted from the pile of sticks.

“Show off.” Erik dropped his bag to the ground, rifling through it before pulling out a ragged blanket and shaking it out.

Rowan watched him. “Well, maybe. But you’re still benefiting from it, right?” When Erik grinned again, Rowan felt the oddest sense of satisfaction, like he’d won a game he couldn’t remember agreeing to play. He ducked his head and busied himself with unpacking his own threadbare quilt. Before leaving downtown Heliodor they’d acquired enough to get them through to Cobblestone, knowing full well it would likely be their last night sleeping in a bed - for a few days, at the very least. After being lucky enough to come across the cabin in the middle of the Manglegrove, Rowan wasn’t surprised to find their fortunes in stumbling upon unexpected shelters had run out.

He spread his blanket out on the other side of the crackling fire before digging an apple out of his pack. Across from him, Erik was scanning the green hills of the coast, his eyes narrowed.

“What? Did you see something?” Rowan asked at once, his mouth turning down into a frown.

“Besides the monsters just waiting for us to turn our backs?” Erik grumbled.

“We’re safe by the statue,” Rowan assured him, “I told you.”

Erik glanced at him then, the skepticism in his gaze so heavy that Rowan looked away, feeling his face heat up. “You believe that crap?”

“Well, yeah,” Rowan lifted his chin, defiant. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Erik studied him a moment more before shrugging one shoulder and turning away. For once he didn’t seem to have a retort on the tip of his tongue, but neither had Rowan’s words made any visible impact, for Erik’s hands still didn’t stray far from the dagger at his hip.

Rowan let his eyes roam over his new friend for a second before lying down on his back, pillowing his head on his arm, and tucking into the fruit in his palm. He enjoyed Erik’s company a great deal more than he would have expected from someone he met in the dark of a locked dungeon, but he also could tell enough to know that Erik kept much of himself hidden away, and had secrets veiled behind sly grins and snarky humor. His smiles had sharp edges, and he reminded Rowan of the blurred line where a pool of sunlight spilled into shadow.

It was a little unnerving at times, Rowan thought, after he’d spent his entire life in a town where nobody bothered to keep anything from anyone. Except for the fact that he was supposed to be the magical reincarnation of the Luminary. _That,_ he thought with a bitterness that surprised him, they’d had no problem keeping from him.

With his mind on Cobblestone, he felt a twinge in his gut, the familiar cloud of worry returning to rain over his head. Carnelian had sent Sir Jasper to his village, and there’d been a sort of icy glint to the knight’s smile, something Rowan thought looked decidedly unfriendly.

Rowan blinked at the sound of a throat clearing and looked up. Erik stood over him, his blanket in his fist and his eyes darting anywhere but Rowan’s face. “Do you mind if I-” he started, before gesturing unhelpfully with his free hand.

“If you what?” Rowan asked softly, sitting up.

Erik sighed. “Sleep right here?” he said, before continuing hastily, “It’ll be safer, you know. In case you’re wrong about the stupid statue.”  

Despite the fact that his words were likely meant to bite, Rowan felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, and bit down on his lip to hide it. “Yeah, of course. Good idea.”

Erik shot him a look that was half relief, half warning. He spread his blanket out inches from Rowan’s before flopping down on his stomach. “Hey, got any more food?”

That time Rowan grinned in earnest. “Help yourself,” he offered, nudging his bag with his foot.

After they’d settled down, each trying to chase an uneasy sleep, Rowan stared up at the star-dotted sky before rolling onto his side to face Erik’s back. The other boy was curled away from him, his shoulders scrunched to his ears and his left hand wrapped around the hilt of his weapon.

“Erik?” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ever accidentally cut yourself when you sleep like that?”

Erik’s shoulders shook in a silent laugh. “Once or twice,” came his murmured reply.

“Then why…?”

He stopped laughing. “Gotta be prepared, right?”

Rowan let his eyes trail down the line of Erik’s neck to the tension in his back and wondered what kind of life he’d lived, even before he’d been a thief in Heliodor. He thought it couldn’t have been an easy one. It made Rowan feel sad, and more than a little protective; even though he knew it was likely he wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment, that the reality of someone wanting to protect Erik had come years too late.

They fell silent. Rowan listened to the choir of bugs humming in the grass around them. It was a song he heard every night from his open window, when he was home.

“Erik?” he echoed.

Erik turned over to face him that time, blue eyes colorless under the cloak of night. He pillowed his cheek on his hand, his tired gaze roaming Rowan’s face.

Rowan felt his heart pound a little harder. He swallowed. “What do you think Jasper will do to Cobblestone?”

Erik stayed quiet, seeming to consider his question for a moment before whispering, “I don’t know, man. But we’ll head there first thing, okay?” He sounded genuine, offering the slightest curve of a weary smile before he rolled back over. “Get some sleep.”

Rowan figured he was right, that there was nothing to be done for worrying, and he’d only waste time and sacrifice rest for his efforts. Silently, he mirrored Erik, turning back over. The fire popped as it began to die away, soon taking what light remained with it.

He laid utterly still for a breath, then another. Minutes ticked by, or perhaps hours. Rowan took a deep breath before shuffling backward, until his shoulders just barely pressed against Erik’s, back to back.

At first, the other boy stiffened. Rowan held his breath. After a second, he felt Erik relax into the tentative touch, the tension in his spine easing away.

Finally, Rowan closed his eyes, feeling warmer beside him than he’d been alone.


	2. A Sleepless Night in Gallopolis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* What's this? An update on a day other than Tuesday? It's more likely than you think.

* * *

 

2:

 

Rowan couldn’t sleep.

Though it was true that the desert air cooled drastically when night fell, the room at the Inn had only one small window and even the infrequent breeze that rolled through wasn’t enough to provide any significant relief. It was far too humid and the bedclothes stuck to his skin when he shifted. It was also too quiet, save the sound of Erik’s even breathing in the next bed - a rhythmic sound that usually brought him some peace, but on that particular night, just seemed all the more discomposing. It kindled a small amount of jealousy as well; for all Erik complained about the heat, he seemed to be sleeping just fine.

It was probably thanks to the locked door, Rowan thought. Walls and doors did wonders for Erik’s ability to relax.

Rowan tossed onto his back, kicking at his sheet, then flopped to his side. He could barely make out his friend’s shape in the dark: his blanket was tossed to his hips, revealing the pale curve of his shoulder, the knots of his spine standing out in his curled up state. Rowan’s mother would say Erik was too skinny, but then, she’d never seen him take down a monster twice his size. Rowan would say he was _lithe_ instead.

He looked away and counted twenty ceiling tiles before his eyes were drawn again to Erik when he shifted onto his back, flung an arm in Rowan’s direction, and slept on. He took his gloves off to sleep, so Rowan took the opportunity to study the bare hand that hung off the mattress. His eyes traced the ridges of Erik’s knuckles, the way they tapered to deft fingers. It was a nice looking hand, Rowan thought, which made him feel odd for even thinking it. With an impatient huff, he kicked his blanket all the way off his body and smacked his pillow a few times, trying to fluff it into something resembling comfort.

He counted the furniture in the room next - two beds, a bedside table in between. An armoire, a desk in the corner. A bookcase. He could read, but lighting the lantern would surely wake Erik up. Rowan had developed a protective streak when it came to Erik’s sleep. He got so little of it when they were on the road that Rowan had taken it upon himself to defend him when he _did_ \- he made sure to stay quiet the rare times Erik managed to sleep past dawn, or ran interference with Veronica when she got loud while he tried to catch a nap - so he discarded the idea to pick up a book as soon as it presented itself. After a moment Rowan sighed, sat up in the bed, and dropped his bare feet to the floor.

He’d go for a walk. Maybe it would help him cool off. Maybe he’d even be able to relax afterward.

_Maybe._

Rowan straightened the trousers that hung on his hips but decided to forgo boots and a shirt. With one last glance at his snoozing roommate, he left the room as silently as he could, easing the door closed behind him.

The nighttime air on his skin was nothing short of a blessing. Gallopolis was a study in contrasts; hot and busy during the day, the streets filled with merchant stands and loud voices. At night it was silent, cool, and mercifully empty.

Rowan mounted the stairs and climbed up to the city’s upper level. He crossed the footbridge and leaned against the railing, looking out into the dark. In the distance he saw lightning illuminating the clouds for seconds at a time, bright flashes accompanied occasionally by muffled thunder. Rowan wondered if it would rain, if the storm would roll in over the city and over his head and soak him, or if instead the skies would simply display discontent without the benefit of a much-needed shower.

He was ready to leave. After being dragged into a royal horse race and helping a ridiculous prince defeat a sand beast, he’d seen more than enough, and Gallopolis had been monumentally disappointing in their efforts to find the Rainbough. Rowan knew they’d leave for Gondolia first thing, but he itched with restlessness, with the urge to _go,_ to figure out what it was he was meant to be doing. His newfound destiny weighed heavy on shoulders not quite ready to bear the burden.

“There you are. Can't sleep?"

Rowan jumped, even though he’d know the voice anywhere. He spun around as Erik crossed the remaining space between them and joined him at the railing. Rowan passed a hand through his hair. “Uh, no. Sorry, did I wake you?”

Erik shook his head. “No, this stupid heat did. I’m not cut out for this.”

Rowan smiled a little at that, a comment he’d heard more than once over the week they’d spent in the desert. “Well, we’ll be waving goodbye to this place in the morning.”

“Good riddance,” Erik muttered, hopping up to sit on the railing. Rowan’s hand shot out to grab Erik's knee, steadying him without ever making the decision to move.

Erik’s mouth curled into a smirk. “What, worried I’ll fall?”

“You don’t have the best track record,” Rowan retorted.

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Rowan studied him. He counted the freckles that dotted Erik's shoulders before swiftly turning his head, focusing back on the storm clouds with an uncomfortable prickly feeling taking over his skin.

He felt _frustrated,_ in a way he couldn’t begin to understand or explain, even as it pounded through his blood and shook him to his bones. He wasn’t sure why, only that he’d never felt quite like this before.

As it was, Rowan was slowly coming to terms with the fact that Erik fascinated him.

At first, he’d thought it only because he was a new friend, a new _person;_ in a place like Cobblestone, there weren’t many unfamiliar faces. Erik had lived so differently and had wild stories Rowan could only dream of, ones that left him in stitches over their shared campfire. But once the girls joined them, Rowan couldn’t help but notice his own interest wasn’t quite the same. He enjoyed Serena’s calm presence and admired Veronica’s particular brand of abrasiveness, and already he cared about them with a ferocity that surprised him. But in getting to know two more new people, he couldn’t deny that with Erik, it was just...different.

It was different in the way that making Erik laugh always made Rowan smile and flush with a peculiar sort of pride, how he sought Erik’s attention before all others. It was new, how his skin heated and his heart raced at Erik’s touch, just a hand on his shoulder or a playful elbow to his ribs. Different in the way Rowan’s eyes always wanted to linger, endlessly curious and just a little bit hungry. Erik made everything inside him feel awake, all at once. Rowan hadn’t realized how long he’d been sleeping until he _couldn't._

“What are you doing up here, anyway?” Erik asked, swinging his legs back and forth.

He’d probably been touching Erik too long. He should move his hand away, he knew, but Rowan also worried he’d fall to his death. He held onto his knee a moment longer before releasing him and wrapping his fingers around the railing instead. “Just looking. It’s storming out there, do you see it?”

Erik looked over his shoulder, wobbling precariously with the motion. Rowan gripped his ankle, eyes narrowing as Erik only grinned at him. “It’s not going to rain, man. We’re in the shitty _desert,_ in case you didn’t know.”

Rowan turned to face him, a retort on his tongue that died when his breath caught in his chest. Erik belonged beneath starlight, he thought. The moon turned his skin silver and his eyes dark, but then, he was celestial even in full color.

Rowan felt a flush creep up his neck and his cheeks burned. He was grateful for the dark, to hide the things he wasn’t quite ready to bring out into the light. “Maybe,” Rowan hedged, “but if it does, I want to see it.”

Erik shrugged but remained where he was, keeping Rowan company even in doubt. Rowan figured it was just another sign of the steadfast loyalty he wasn’t sure he’d earned.

“Any ideas about how we’re going to track down this merchant?” Erik asked.

“Not a clue.” Rowan tapped his fingers on the banister. Thunder boomed overhead, louder than before. “Knock on doors, maybe? Put up wanted posters?”

Erik huffed a laugh. “We can always turn Veronica loose on the town. She can terrorize anyone into giving information.”

Rowan grinned. “You have to admit, she’s good at getting things done.”

“She’s a pain,” Erik grumbled, but the complaint carried less heat than it had the week before.

“She just likes to tease you. You make it easy, sometimes.” Rowan said. He bit down on his lip when Erik shot him a thoroughly affronted look.

“Keep talking,” Erik warned, even as his lips curled into an unbidden smile.

More than anything, it felt like Erik fit. He was a lost piece Rowan hadn’t even known to look for until they’d found themselves shoulder to shoulder, until he’d raced towards a cliff face at Erik’s side and took flight for one glorious second before the fall.

Rowan felt a drop of water land on his arm, then another splatter on his cheek. He looked up, then offered Erik a grin, more joyous than smug.

Erik was shaking his head, still smiling. “Well, what do you know,” he started, holding out a hand to catch the rain. “Even the skies bend to Yggdrasil’s favorite little leaf.”

Rowan tipped his head back and let his eyes fall closed as water trailed over his skin, cool and refreshing. In seconds the rain was coming down harder, escalating from a drizzle to a downpour, but it was what he’d been waiting for.

Erik dropped a hand onto Rowan’s shoulder and leapt back down to put his feet on the ground, his hair plastered dark against his forehead. “Are we gonna make a run for it, or stand here and get soaked?”

He asked in a manner that suggested he’d stay with Rowan either way, and it made something ridiculous and giddy bloom in his chest. Rowan laughed and pushed his drenched hair out of his eyes. “I could use a shower,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “But we can race back, if you want.”

A glint of challenge sparked in Erik’s eyes. “You’ll lose.”

Rowan didn’t mind. In fact, he wasn’t so sure he’d hadn’t won something already, and for the first time that night, he thought being awake might not be so terrible a thing to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed, let me know! Thanks for reading!


	3. Gondolia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday, everyone. Here's our boy angsting over his missing boyfriend.

3: 

 

The roaring in Rowan’s ears was deafening.

It was an odd moment for memory to strike, but he could easily recall walking the coastline with Chalky as a child. They would pick up shells and his grandfather always told him to put them to his ear so he could hear the sea. He remembered feeling confused by the request; Rowan could already hear the ocean crashing endlessly just past where they walked, but he was always one to do as he was asked, so he listened.

Even after Chalky was gone, Rowan swore he could still hear the water in the shells that lined the shelves of their home in Cobblestone.

He could hear it then, too, as he stood frozen in the shadows of Gondolia’s port while three of his friends spoke around him, words flowing past him and meaning little as they went. No one asked him anything, nor did he offer suggestions of his own. Not much made it through the echo in his ears but for the call and response of the sea as it broke infinitely against rock and sand.

His skin felt cold, no matter how many times he rubbed his hands over his arms. He let his eyes fall closed and he could see it again, painted on the backs of his eyelids like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. Erik, on the ground, slapping his hand away.

_I bought you some time, use it._

Somewhere to his left, Sylvando spoke in low, rapid tones to Serena and Veronica. Rowan thought he might have mentioned his boat.

_Get out of here, now!_

Rowan’s heartbeat was a vicious thing, railing against the bars of a cage.

_I left him, I left him behind._

He let out a breath through his nose and sucked in another as a tide rolled over him, red and hungry and feral. He’d never been particularly prone to violent impulses before, but as all conversation stopped at once and his foot suddenly ached, he realized too late the reason for it: without ever making the conscious decision to do so, he’d kicked out and slammed his boot through a barrel. Wood and grain scattered over the stones. Rowan stared at the mess and wondered if he didn’t have a propensity towards savagery after all.

For a moment, the three of them stared at him. Serena and Sylvando wore nearly identical expressions of shock, while Veronica looked less startled. The latter merely raised an eyebrow and waved a hand at the scene. “Well, I don’t see how throwing a _tantrum_ is going to help us any!”

Rowan didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. “We’re not getting on the boat and leaving! We’re getting Erik back, and we’re getting him back _right now.”_

“Oh, but of course we are, honey. We’re going to wait just a _teeny_ bit longer until it gets dark, and then-”

The roaring came back, louder than before. “Now,” Rowan growled. “We have to find him now.”

“Rowan, be reasonable,” Veronica bit out, impatience crackling around her like static. “If you’d calm down and think for a second, you’d see going after him right this minute is no better than waltzing back up to Jasper and handing yourself over to him on a silver platter!”

“I don’t care,” Rowan said. In some distant, quiet corner of his mind, he knew he was being irrational. He knew that charging the stage and the squadron of soldiers that surrounded it was a fool’s errand, he knew Veronica was right. But the logical sector of his mind ceded control to the furious war-drum pounding behind his ribs, to the relentless tugging in his bones to _go, go now, seek him out. Carve your way to him if you have to._ From the second he’d watched Erik take the hit meant for himself Rowan had walked with ice in his veins, freezing and cutting him open as it churned through. His heart called out for blood, even if he had to take it from someone else. “Jasper will kill him.”

Serena looked appalled. “Certainly not!”

The beast wearing his skin wanted to snap at her. Rowan barely managed to keep it leashed. “And why not? Why _wouldn’t_ he? They’re after me, to them he’s just the thief that escaped their dungeon! Jasper destroyed my home just because I was born there, Erik -” cool air stung his lungs as he drew it in, then forced it out. “Jasper would kill him in a second. What is Erik to him except someone who got in his way? To him, he’s nothing.”

No one moved or spoke. Sylvando frowned at the ground. Serena looked guilty, close to tears. Half of Rowan felt it like a gut punch, the shame of poking at someone who would never poke back. The other half of him had no comfort to offer. Veronica only watched him, her eyes narrowed and keen.

When she finally spoke up, her voice was low but pointed, a direct hit. “And what is he to _you?”_

Rowan’s breath left him. The sharpest edges of his anger died away with it, a flickering flame in the wind. “He-”

_What is he to you?_ Rowan’s eyes sought the ocean as his pulse pounded in his ears. He was a friend. A great friend, very possibly his best one. Rowan would run recklessly to try to save any one of them, but would it feel the same? Would the fear freeze and burn his insides, all at once? Would he raze the city to nothing to find them in the remains, or would he only do that for -

_What is he to you?_ Erik had saved Rowan’s life more times than just once, but it wasn’t debt that hollowed him out. It wasn’t obligation that wrapped around his lungs and squeezed, driving thorns in deep with every breath.

It was more than that, he realized, and with the epiphany came an unequivocal simplicity. To him, Erik was so, _so_ far from nothing.

Rowan watched waves lap at the stone walls that held back the sea and wondered if this newfound weight would be enough to drag him down and swallow him whole.

“Rushing back into danger without a plan after he tried to _save_ you just throws his sacrifice away,” Veronica told him, her voice softening at whatever it was she found in his expression despite his absent answer. “Don’t make it count for nothing.”

The crash of the ocean in his ears died away. When he looked at it like that, there wasn’t much of a choice left at all.

Rowan raked a hand through his hair as he deflated. He was a leaden thing, made of nothing more than ice and stone, but he couldn't let the waves take him; not when he had so much to lose and everything to gain.

The sword on his back suddenly felt weightless. His blood sang. _Find_ _him._

“Fine,” Rowan whispered, _“fine._  So let’s hear a plan, then.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Let me know what you think. :)


End file.
